


stupid love

by gracetrackhiggins



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Drag Queen AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Gentle Kissing, M/M, Race is a drag queen, Spot is a bartender, and they were roommates!, like the gayest, references to trauma but no details dw, spot conlon is a softie, this is so gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26606314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracetrackhiggins/pseuds/gracetrackhiggins
Summary: Race is a drag queen, Spot is a bartender at the club she works at, they’re roommates, and Race impulsively kisses Spot during Lady Gaga’s Stupid Love.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	stupid love

**Author's Note:**

> necessary background for this AU: Race has a messy past, so does Spot, life brings them together anyway. no trigger warnings! just lots of gentle kissing.

Race feels like he can finally exhale when he sits down backstage after his set. It’s only now, adrenaline leaving his system, that he notices his hands shaking. His lips are still buzzing from the impulsive, stupid, passionate kiss he gave Spot during his Lady Gaga medley. 

Race kicks off the sparkly pink heels, cracking his sore ankles as he leans back in the makeup and paint-stained folding chair. He relaxes his body with a slump in his seat, heart still racing from dancing and lip syncing, sweat fucking up his carefully contoured face. He grabs tissues to blot like Miss Medda taught him to, tilting his face to look in the mirror and preserve the makeup. He’d caught onto doing makeup quickly, it was more fun than smudged eyeliner for his old job, and looking in the mirror and seeing someone beautiful and different was a good feeling. Somehow, doing drag made Race like looking in the mirror. Makeup makes him feel pretty, even when he’s not performing. 

Race grins as a few queens bustle in and out of the small backstage area, grabbing props and pieces of their costumes, and asking Race to toss them various things from the vanity. It’s never quiet in the club, but Race doesn’t mind. It’s got good energy, happy customers and regulars, kind staff, fun fellow queens, and the people like Miss Medda were some of the nicest people Race has ever met. You can come as you are when you’re here, gender, sexuality, past, trauma, none of it matters. Maybe that’s what he loves so much about doing drag, nothing really matters, and for the first time, he can just be.

Race feels his stomach fill with warmth as he thinks about kissing Spot, right in the middle of Lady Gaga’s Stupid Love. It’s ironic, really. 

Race carefully takes off his lipstick to drink from his bright pink water bottle, one of the new things he bought for himself as he started his life over. He’s become oddly attached to it, and all the other things he’s purchased since getting clean. Plates, bowls, water bottles, makeup organizers, normal clothes, things he bought as _ Race _ for  _ Race  _ mean the world to him. 

It’s only been a few months, but Race has honestly never felt more at peace with who he is. He’s clean, he’s safe, he’s relatively healthy, he has incredible friends and he thinks he’s falling in love. His lips still burn for Spot’s, even as he considers that he might’ve messed things up between them. But Race is sure of his feelings. He’s never been sure of anything the way he is about Spot. 

Spot is steady. Spot is kind. Spot is patient. Spot never expects anything from him. Spot likes him for who he is, not what he can get. Spot is love. 

“Good set,” Race looks up in the mirror at the sound of Spot’s voice and gives him a grin, twisting in his chair. “You wore the new shoes.” 

Race’s smile grows and he nods. “I did.”

“You did great. Made bank on the tips, too.” 

Race fans himself with the pile of singles on the vanity countertop. “I can buy myself a whole lot of pink water bottles with this.”

Spot laughs, and Race’s heart flutters. 

Spot takes a seat next to Race at the counter in the tiny backstage dressing room, as they do most nights now, and slides over a to-go container from the kitchen. Neither of them eat, just meeting each other’s eyes and getting lost in them instead. 

“Oh,” Race says softly as his eyes wander down Spot’s face. “You, uh,” he leans closer and reaches out to touch Spot’s cheek. “You have some lipstick, right there.” 

Spot smiles at Race’s soft touch, his thumb gently wiping the pink lipstick from his cheek. Race doesn’t retract his hand when he’s done, holding it against Spot’s cheek softly. Spot gently reaches for it, lacing their fingers together. 

“You okay?” Spot whispers, and Race’s wide blue eyes fill with longing. 

“Yeah,” he whispers. “You?”

Spot smiles. “Yeah.”

Race looks unsure, their bodies too close, Spot’s hand too warm, and his mind going too fast. 

“Can…” Race can barely hear his whisper over the booming Britney Spears song outside on stage and his own heartbeat inside his ears. “Can I...?”

Spot nods, and Race carefully closes the gap between them in a cautious kiss. It’s all the go-ahead Spot needs to take over, allowing Race to relax as he gently takes both of Race’s hands in his and places them around his waist. Race’s hands carefully curl into Spot’s soft black tee as Spot’s kisses continue. 

Race’s closed eyes well with tears at the softest kisses he’s ever received. He’s never felt anything like this before, so careful, so intentional, so understanding, so  _ kind _ . Race doesn’t want to cry, but the second Spot’s hand gently cradles the back of his head, he can’t help but let out a soft sob. 

“I’ve got you,” Spot whispers, and Race nods. He doesn’t need to explain. He doesn’t need to apologize. He doesn’t need to be or do anything. Spot has him. 

“This okay?” Spot asks as he gently guides Race to sit over his lap. Race nods, eagerly kissing Spot’s lips again and again, greedy and hungry and desperate to stay in this safe bubble as long as he can. He’s shocked when the feeling doesn’t disappear or lessen the longer they kiss. 

Race isn’t sure when his emotions relaxed but he’s never felt so calm, being held in Spot’s arms, being kissed with such reverence and passion at the same time. It’s beautiful. 

Race doesn’t even notice when the set outside ends and queens come backstage. He doesn’t hear their teasing and laughter as they joke around. He doesn’t know how, but he can only hear Spot’s breath and Spot’s heartbeat. He’s the only person who exists in this moment, and Race never wants the moment to end. 

One of Spot’s hands runs through Race’s blonde curls, sweaty from taking off the wig and cap after his set. His other hand holds Race’s waist steadily, fingers gently playing with the sequins of his dress. His tongue explores Race’s mouth and he kisses everywhere he can reach, finally kissing his neck deep enough to make Race moan with pleasure. He gets lost in it. In Race’s soft skin, his blue eyes, his kind heart, his desperation to be and do good. Spot’s drawn to him unlike anyone he’s ever met. No man has ever come close to the way he feels with Race, with the butterflies and the vulnerability and such strong emotion. 

At some point, though both of them had lost track of time, the kissing slowed. Instead of deep, aching kisses, they simply hug one another, Race’s arms wrapped around Spot’s neck and shoulders, Spot’s arms around Race’s waist. They just relax this way, holding each other close, until their moment is broken again by queens coming backstage once more. 

This time, Race clears his throat and stands from Spot’s lap, wiping at his running eye makeup carefully. He holds Spot’s hand in his tight, refusing to let go. Spot’s hand squeezes back just as tightly. 

Race keeps to himself as usual, not kiki-ing with the other queens, just getting out of drag on his own while Spot waits for him. When they’re alone again, Spot pulls Race to him gently as he stands. 

“You want to go home?” He asks, and Race feels a gut reaction of panic before it’s replaced with warmth. Spot won’t hurt him. Home is safe. Home is good. Home means they can kiss more, but in sweatpants instead of sequins. 

“We go slow,” Spot says, as if he could read Race’s mind. “You’re in charge.” 

Race blinks back emotion and nods. “I’d love that.”

“You’re okay?” Spot confirms, and Race smiles that bright smile that fills his heart to the brim. 

“I’m incredible.”

“Yeah,” Spot smiles too. “You are.” 

***

Race curls close to Spot in bed, Spot’s hand lazily running through Race’s hair, still damp from the shower. They’re kissing again.

Now that Race has a taste of the softness of Spot’s kiss, he can’t get enough. He distantly thinks that kissing Spot is better than any high, any fix, any hit. Kissing Spot is otherworldly. 

“I think I might love you,” Race says, not even sure if he said it out loud. He stops, realizing his words and how sudden they are, having only known Spot for a few months. “I..uh,” 

Spot only smiles, cupping Race’s cheek with his free hand. 

“I think I might love you too,” he says simply. He looks thoughtful, shaking his head. “I’ve never said that to anyone before.” 

Race nods. “Me neither.” 

Spot kisses him again, just as hungry as Race is for more. More gentle kisses and cautious lip bites, more soft touches from Race’s fingertips, more light pulls at Spot’s t-shirt, more tiny moans into Spot’s mouth. He could do this all day. Forever. 

“It just feels... _ right _ ,” Spot admits, kissing Race’s forehead and cheeks and nose tenderly. “You feel right.”

Spot can feel Race growing emotional as he nods. 

“So do you,” Race whispers, voice cracking. “I…” he sniffs, squeezing his eyes closed and letting Spot continue to shower him in adoring kisses. 

“Tell me,” Spot prompts gently. 

“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” Race whispers. 

“Like this?”

“This soft,” Race’s voice is choked, and Spot can feel emotion rising in his chest too. “This kind. This careful. I never…” Race shifts and clears his throat. “I never knew it could feel this good.” 

Spot feels breathless, and doesn’t know how to respond outside of more kisses. He hopes Race can feel the respect and adoration, the understanding Spot feels for Race’s past, the promise to never judge him for it, the way something in Spot wants to protect Race from ever experiencing pain like that again. He hopes Race knows how grateful he is that Race shows him the same grace regarding his own past, accepting him instantly. He can’t put it all into words, but he hopes Race can feel it in every soft, reverent kiss. Finally he pulls back, smoothing his hand over Race’s cheek lightly. 

“You deserve to feel good, always,” Spot says, meeting Race’s eyes so he’s sure Race knows he means it. “I only ever want to make you feel good.” 

Spot can tell by the near silent gasp that he said the right thing. He can feel Race slowly start to relax more and more in his arms the longer they kiss, quiet tears running down his face as their lips meet over and over, getting lost in each other for what feels like hours. 

Race curls against Spot as they relax, resting his head on his chest as Spot gently strokes his hair and kisses his head ever so softly. He finally drifts off to sleep, a little smile still on his face, Spot’s arms wrapped around him protectively. 

They stay that way, comfortable and safe in each other’s embrace, all night long. 

***

**Author's Note:**

> as always you can find me on tumblr @gracetrack-higgins !!! 
> 
> I’d love to hear your thoughts! there’s more where this came from if you’re interested in this AU!


End file.
